


Shiver

by Cân Cennau (cancennau)



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Cave-In, Claustrophobia, Confessions, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Other, Post-Canon Cardassia, Sharing a Bed, Trauma, trapped in a room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-20 04:56:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11913675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cancennau/pseuds/C%C3%A2n%20Cennau
Summary: As Garak and Parmak are involved in yet another rescue operation, a freak accident forces them to share a bed, triggering repressed trauma, mutual desire and a conversation that was a long time coming.





	Shiver

If there was anything Garak hated, it was evening call-outs.

He especially hated call-outs which happened in in the last few minutes of his shift. Now that Cardassia was well on the way to recovery from the Dominion blitz, he only needed to be on call with the volunteer medical team, rather than out daily hunting people out, which was an awful lot worse since they were now only ever were called out when someone was probably dead. Garak did not hate the work - far from it, it was an incredibly fulfilling role - but sometimes he wished that emergencies would stop happening just before passover and would wait until the next team was settled and ready for action.

The callout he was headed to now was one of the better ones. A concerned citizen had reported seeing two young children in a rather unstable part of the city. It wasn’t rare that children played in spaces that they weren’t supposed to, however they’d returned to the site night after night, leading to some suspicion that they actually lived there. Garak’s unit had been called in when one of the children had been sighted with what looked like a broken arm. And so he and Parmak, who was also on call, abandoned their books and their evening plans at a recently opened eatery, to go and locate them, along with two relatively new members of the police force - Audnes and Toran - who were also part of the unit once upon a time. Both of them were Northerners, with round faces and coppery scales, and were good friends of Parmak’s, having met in a book club on the outskirts of the city during the Occupation. Somehow, they’d also grown on him too.

“I’m just saying Tavrek can’t be responsible for all the things that happened in _The Josiah Enigma._ ” Audnes was saying as their group walked towards the destination of the call-out. “Sure, they could’ve been more self aware, but-”

“But they weren’t,” Parmak argued. “And that’s the problem - no-one would’ve died had they realized that they were copying Azran, and making the same mistakes. Toran, back me up here.”

“I’m not getting into your discussions about posh literature.” Toran wasn’t even paying them any attention, instead unknotting their plait of dark reddish hair from the straps of their backpack. “ _The Josiah Enigma_ was way over my head.”

“What about you, Elim? Actually no, I know you’ll take Audnes’ side out of spite-”

Garak laughed. “And I had such good opinions to share! Clearly, Tavrek had no opportunity for self reflection, or-”

“They had _every_ opportunity to reflect on their actions - they were just too obstinate to do so.”

“All Tavrek did was invite Azran to the wedding.” Audnes flicked away a fly from their own pack. “It wasn’t exactly the worst thing in the world to do.”

“They invited Azran, knowing of the bad blood between them and Masiana. The _itzik’jia_ is smaller than the _adik_ of darkness - Tavrek’s decision to invite Masiana’s ex-lover to Masiana’s wedding to another man out of _spite_ , was the start of the downfall of everyone else.”

“What’s that quoted from?” Audnes asked curiously. “‘The _itzik’jia_ is smaller than the _adik_ of darkness’? It sounds Hebitian.”

“Ooh, is it time for a game of ‘guess which obscure Hebitian poem Dr Parmak is quoting today’?” Toran clapped their hands together. “I’m good at this. I bet it’s _Dirt and Renakt Flies_.”

Parmak frowned. “That’s not a name of _any_ poem, let alone the one I was thinking of.”

“How about _Stone and Cloven Steer_?”

“That’s not one either.”

“Toran,” Audnes interjected, their mouth twisting into an amused smirk. “Admit it, you know no Hebitian poetry.”

“I don’t.” Toran deflected cheerily. “Never went to private school, so I wasn’t taught it. But all Hebitian poetry has a name that’s like ‘building material plus animal or plant’, so I’ll get it right eventually.”

“It was Mezok’s _Water and Sektet_.” Parmak laughed. “You were nowhere near. And anyway, it’s not that rare - Elim was the one who introduced me to their book.”

Toran turned to walk backwards and talk to Garak. “Really? Is it any better than the normal poetry Dr Parmak’s into?”

“Not really. Far too much proselytizing about fish, if you ask me.”

“Don’t try and take their side, you liked it, and you told me so.” Parmak shook their head in mock disappointment. “What is the state of today’s education if you are not taught classical Hebitian poetry, _honestly_ …”

“We weren’t all privately educated like you, Dr Parmak. Well, except Audnes.”

“And all their private school manners have been corrupted by you, we know.”

“They have not.” Audnes looked at Parmak with a raised eye-ridge. “Just because I don’t pointedly turn away when someone so much as takes off an outer coat like you, Dr Parmak…”

Parmak rolled their eyes up towards the blue Cardassian sky, causing both young police officers to fall about laughing. Garak only watched Parmak with a fond smile, which became amused when Parmak looked to him for sympathy.

They arrived at the house in good time. Garak was not certain how their informant knew it was inhabited - the sandy-coloured house looked deserted, with copper-y _heppat_ vines climbing up the walls and through the cracked windows, even circling around the jut of a front facing bay window. The front door was off its hinges, and lay across the doorframe, half covering the gap and thereby ensuring smaller urban animals did not get in. The cracked exterior looked stable enough, however - unlike the houses either side, the upper stories had been knocked clean off, so it did not have extra height that they’d have to worry about collapsing on them. It looked small compared to the taller two or three story buildings beside it, but it would’ve been considered prime property once upon a time, not least due to the presence of an old fashioned cone chimney, which were hard to find outside rich country dwellings.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been in a house that’s worth so much.” Toran joked, stepping over the door and crouching to avoid hitting their head on the low-hanging door frame. “Do you think we need to cable ourselves together for this one?”

“I don’t think so.” Garak followed Toran in, peering around. “We have enough light from the windows to see, and I don’t think there’s anything underneath us for us to fall into should the floorboards break.”

The first room was a shared reception room, with a small kitchen tucked away in a small corner and doors leading off into other parts of the house. The walls were bare, but showed imprints of where paintings and frames used to hang - sold, probably, on the black market. The furniture was still in pretty good shape, despite this, with a large dining table at one end, and a collection of sofas and armchairs surrounding a large bay window. It became clear now that it was - or had been - inhabited; an abandoned card game sat on the dining table, and broken toy cars were lined up across the floor, but the house was silent save for their own chatter.

“I can see why they picked this house to live in.” Audnes murmured, with her head poked into one of the rooms branching off from the reception area. “It still has a working bathroom unit.”

“Are they still here though, that’s the question?” Parmak poked one of the armchairs, as if expecting a small child to come crawling out of it. “It’s awfully quiet for a house with children.”

“I was thinking the same.” Toran dropped their pack onto the floor. “Audnes, do you want to look around the perimeter for them?”

“I think that would be best. You and I can look around outside, and Dr Parmak and Mr Garak can look around here. It’s not really big enough to necessitate all of us looking around the house.”

“Take my medical kit, Audnes.” Parmak added, neatly tossing the metal case across to them. “You’re more likely to find them outside than in here, I think.”

With a slight parting bow, both Toran and Audnes left the house, and Garak could hear them searching around in the long grass behind the houses. Garak went ahead and examined the two rooms close to the door - one was where the old staircase was, and was filled with rubble; the other was a basic toilet unit placed in a cupboard. Parmak went and investigated the kitchen, but returned with nothing of interest to say - it was in good shape, but there were no electrics, and the cooker and cooler didn’t work, despite the presence of food in both. That left only one room directly across from them, which turned out to be the master bedroom.

The bedroom seemed to be relatively well used - the bed had the shadowed indents of bodies that had used it for some time, with recently tossed blankets, and bric-a-brac lay strewn across the ground. On one side of the room there was a forlorn-looking rocking chair, alongside a bookshelf stacked with old iso-linear rods. A fireplace sat at the end of the room, with ashes curled and white scattered all around it, and in front of that a table that seemed to have been dragged in from the other room. A door sat opposite Garak, ajar, and he could just about see the glimmer of the stone of a bathroom counter.

“They’ve been here, doctor.” Garak said over his shoulder, entering the room properly to explore. “I don’t think they _are_ here now, but they certainly were quite recently.”

“That’s disappointing.” Parmak poked their head into the room, and looked around. “I see what you mean, though. Is there anything we can date their presence here by? Old food wrappers or something?”

“Not really. The isolinear books might give a date when they last read them, but these are dusty. I don’t think they have been read.”

“Hmm.” Parmak crossed over to the bookshelf, and Garak joined them. “Some of these are broken too. And if the names below them are right, they probably wouldn’t be interested in them - they’re all adult books, rather than children’s ones.”

“A pity. There are some good books here.”

“Really? You consider _An Eloquent Grimoire_ and _Twice on a Retka Bird_ good literature?”

“Absolutely.”

“Liar. They’re terrible, and I know you think so too.”

“They’re fantastic examples of classic genres.”

“They’re fantastic examples of _rubbish_.”

“You really should give them a chance, Kelas.” Garak browsed the row of books on the bookshelf, smiling slightly in self satisfaction. “You might find something you truly enjoy in… oh, _hello_.”

“What? What have you found?”

“I’ve found your _favourite_ book.” With a shark-like grin, Garak removed one of the rods and showed it to Kelas. “ _The Dah’eel Enigma Tales._ You should take it home with you.”

“ _Stars_ , no.” Parmak took the isolinear rod and placed it firmly into it’s slot. “Lets put it _back._ You couldn’t pay me to read that one again. It’s worse than ordinary enigma tales.”

“Broaden your mind, Kelas…”

“My mind is broad enough, thank _you._ ”

Garak laughed, feeling a deep curl of tenderness coil in his belly, and stepped away from the bookshelf. “I’ll check the bathroom here to make sure there’s no-one in the house. Then we can go home and you don’t have to stare at a bookshelf of ‘terrible’ literature.”

“Thank _stars_ . Although if I’m still invited to yours for dinner tonight, I’ll have to stare at _your_ taste in literature, which is questionable. Unless you’ve changed your mind?”

“Of course I haven’t - I still want to go to that new eatery that’s opened. Perhaps we can have takeaway, if it’s full once we get there, and eat it at mine. And you can stay over if you’d like too - you know the spare bedroom is yours if you ask for it.”

The bathroom was just as empty as Garak had suspected it was - although the shower was wet, as if it had been used just that morning. He turned and left the room to report back to Parmak, but had barely taken one step out of the bathroom when he felt an almost imperceptible vibration under his sole. He paused and turned to Parmak. Parmak too was looking concerned - they opened their mouth to speak, when all of a sudden a great wall of sound came crashing down around his ears.

_“Toran, Toran get back-!”_

_“They’re still in there- I can’t-”_

_“Elim- Elim?!”_

The shuddering the floor forced Garak’s knees to buckle, tipping him onto the floor with a cry. There was a roaring from somewhere, a great crash as _something_ self-destructed _somewhere_ , but the swaying of the walls and the sound disorientated him, and all he could do was curl up on the floor and hope for the best. The sensory overload of whatever it was overwhelmed him, several tonnes of sound crushing him as if he were the smallest ant and the vibrations quaking deep into his bones. He could hear shouting from somewhere, but he did not care to listen, it was too much, _too much-_

“Elim- _Elim!_ Come on, up you get- it’s stopped, we’re alright-”

Someone was shaking him - Parmak, but not gently, but as if they were frantically trying to wake him up. Garak wondered how long he’d been out of it - minutes, hours days? He couldn’t recall. The shaking had stopped though, as had the the crashing wall of sound. However, the air was… different. It tasted dusty, cloying, and besides Parmak’s voice, there was an eerie, ringing quiet. He opened his eyes-

And was met with a vast wall of black, thick and oppressive and dusty that caught Garak’s breath and strangled it. He looked around, and scrambled to sit up, but the darkness was everywhere and it closed in on him, boxing him into a tighter and tighter space. Panic rose like bile up into Garak’s throat. He felt like he was drowning in the blackness, burning up and disintegrating, as if the scales on his arms were simultaneously too tight and about to fly apart at any second. He felt flayed, heart racing, breathing hard, wide eyed and terrified, looking for an escape to the darkness-

“Elim-? Oh, _Elim-_ deep breaths for me, breath with me, come on-”

There was one hand on his face, and another pressing his own hand onto a scaled chest, cool and grounding. Garak could feel the rise and fall of Parmak’s chest, the strong heartbeat beneath the sinew, and strived to copy it, even though his mind was telling him that he should panic, that something was wrong. As he breathed - the room came into better focus, and he realised it was not as dark as he believed it to be. There were hairline cracks in the ceiling nearest to where they were, where parts of the sky could be seen but not causing enough damage for light to seep through properly, causing everything to be bathed in a slight glow. The bathroom where Garak had been stood had completely collapsed in on itself, as had the living room they’d come through, and the fireplace which linked the room to the rest of the house looked rather precarious. Only this room and the airing cupboard looked to be intact.

“Do you know what happened?” Garak asked, turning to look at Parmak, who’s eyes were round and worried.

“No. I can’t hear Audnes nor Toran, and I haven’t called for them - I wanted to make sure you were ok.” Parmak dropped their hand from his face. “Are you okay?”

“Not particularly. But I’m unharmed physically, I think.” Missing the grounding feel of Parmak’s hand, Garak dropped his hand from Parmak’s chest to his arm, which was solid beneath his grip, and- wet? “Are you bleeding? Your arm is wet.”

“Bleeding?” Garak felt rather than saw Parmak’s hand exploring the wetness. “I don’t think it’s _me._ Is it you?” Parmak began prodding up Garak’s arm, pressing the pads of their fingers into the wet blood until-

“ _Ouch!_ ”

“Ah, it is you.” Gentler now, Parmak explored the edges of the cut, much to Garak’s discomfort. “It’s rather nasty- why did I give my medkit to Audnes? Hold on, this will have to make do-”

There was a rustle of fabric, and then Garak felt what seemed to be a wad of cotton pressed into his arm. He hissed sharply, the pain radiating into the joints at both ends of his arm, but he did not cry out - he knew that this had to be done to stop himself from losing too much blood. Parmak did not speak much as they worked - which was worrying in itself as Parmak was normally quite loquacious.

“Are you alright, Kelas?” Garak asked, as Parmak rearranged the fabric. “You didn’t get hit by anything over by the door, did you?”

“No.” Parmak replied, quietly. “I managed to crawl under the bed and shield myself from most of it.”

“Good, that’s… good.” Garak paused for a moment. “Still, this wasn’t a… pleasant experience, really.”

“No. I’m still a little shaken, if I’m honest.”

“Kelas...” Garak patted around with his good arm until he found Parmak’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze, feeling a slight tremor under his palm. “I’m certain Audnes and Toran will find us soon. They would not give up so easily.”

As if on cue, Garak became distinctly aware of voices that were not his or Parmak’s, coming from far above them, muffled by the stonework. Both Parmak and he looked up, as if they would be able to see the shadows in the hairline cracks of the ceiling, but there was no indication of any presence above them. Still, Parmak was not one to be dissuaded, and with an instruction to Garak to keep pressure on the wound, they rose from the floor and headed towards the source of the voices - near where the fireplace used to be.

“Hello?” they called out, upwards into the rubble. “Audnes? Toran? Is that you?”

There was a brief moment of silence, before there came a great sound of scrabbling on stone, of someone frantically digging in the rubble. The voices now were clearer too, and they could both hear snippets of conversation.

“-Audnes, _don’t_ , you might cause a cave in-”

“We’re on top of the living room, I’m sure of it, just let me-”

“We need to call the emergency services- don’t move _that_ -”

“ _You_ call the emergency services, then, but I’m certain- ha!”

“What? Have you found them?!”

“I’ve found that chimney- look, it’s still intact-”

The end of the room suddenly flooded with light, as Audnes shifted rubble from the top of the chimney. Parmak peered up at the newly found light source, but shuffled back as they got pelted in the face by stone dust.

“Kelas-” Garak leant forward, dropping the fabric on his arm in worry. “Be _careful-_ ”

“I’m alright.” Parmak replied, allowing Garak to approach and inspect him. “Just a bit of dust, that’s all.”

“Hmm.” Satisfied that Parmak was not harmed, Garak stepped back, and Parmak peered up the chimney once more.

“Audnes, Toran - are you alright?”

“Dr Parmak!” There was a sudden shadow, as Audnes leaned over the newly made hole. “Thank _stars_ you’re alive, we’ve been so worried-”

“When the building collapsed, we thought you were done for!” Toran appeared, and caused another deep shadow. “Where’s Mr Garak? Did he- I mean he wasn’t-”

“I’m alive - don’t worry.” Garak looked up at the hole entrance. “And those children weren’t here anyway, so we’re all alive. What are you talking about - a building collapsed?”

“Yes - there was an almighty shake, or an earthquake, or something like that- whatever it was destabilized the buildings here-”

“And they just _collapsed._ ” Audnes interjected. “Next door toppled onto the building you’re in - we thought you would’ve been crushed!”

“Luckily we weren’t crushed.” Parmak smiled reassuringly up the chimney chute. “But Garak’s hurt his arm - can you drop my medkit down?”

“I think it might break if we drop it - Toran, where’s my cable?”

“Here - and here’s the clip, just put it on the handle-”

The medkit rattled and bounced down the narrow hole, until it reached Parmak’s waiting hands. With a few tugs, Parmak unhooked the kit and sent the cable back up the chimney. “Thank you!”

“No problem.” Audnes peered down the shaft again. “I don’t suppose there’s any way you can climb out of this? Or somehow lift you out?”

“It’s too narrow.” Parmak replied shaking their head. “And unstable. Even if we could fit and climb it, we risk causing another cave in.”

“Damn. Emergency services it is. The nearest landline must be a few minutes away.”

“You go.” Parmak said firmly. “Both of you - it won’t be safe for both of you to stay here. Mark the entrance, and cover it - Toran, your scarf should be fine...

“Soon enough, Toran and Audnes had left, and the small room was quiet again. Parmak turned to Garak with a smile, and patted their medkit.

“Alright, time to look at your arm. Did you… ah, you did drop my tunic.”

“Your tunic,” Belatedly, Garak realised Parmak was missing the medical uniform they normally wore, and was in an undershirt. “You stemmed the cut on my arm with your tunic?”

“Of course.” Parmak said this as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I wasn’t going to have you bleed out on me due to _propriety_.”

“And yet you tried to lecture Audnes on the same thing.”

“Hush.”

At Parmak’s request, they both stood by the fireplace, so that Parmak could see the cut properly. It looked as bad as the amount of blood had felt - it was a large bloody gash, stretching from the inside of his elbow to the middle of his forearm. Parmak tutted at it, as if it could be shamed into clotting, before turning to clean out the wound with an antiseptic wipe. Garak tolerated the stinging sensation with some grace, and allowed Parmak to fully probe and prod at the wound - it would save him a much more painful route later down the line (he had learned this the hard way several times before), and besides he secretly coveted any time Parmak’s sole attention was on him. It felt nice to be looked after.

“Hmm.” Parmak said, after satisfying themselves that the wound was clean. “I don’t think the dermal regenerator will cut this, I’m afraid. You’ll have to wait until we get out of here and we can use the clinic’s tissue knitter.”

“I was afraid you’d say that.” Garak flexed his fingers, and winced. “I’m guessing you’ll be bandaging it then.”

“I know you don’t like the bandages-”

“That’s an understatement.”

“-but you need them to keep the wound clean.” Parmak pulled a swathe of lilac bandage from the medkit. “I’ll use the soft stuff - it should help with any itching.”

The last time Parmak had bandaged his arm, it had been when there was no power on the planet, and the doctor had moved in with him to ensure he did not tear off his bandages in his claustrophobic fits. Even though back then, Parmak was half living with him anyway, and never really moved out afterwards - Garak was still finding their odd socks around his house - but that was neither here nor there. Garak patiently waited for Parmak to pad the wound and spiral the lilac gauze around his arm, not tight enough that the bandages clung to the edges of his scales, but enough so that the pad didn’t shift off the gash.

“Thank you.” Garak said, examining his arm once Parmak was finished.

“It’s no trouble.” Parmak gave him a smile. “Is there anything else hurt? Are you alright with the space?”

“Nothing hurt. But the space…” Garak cast an eye around the room - although when they’d first entered the room Garak had called the room spacious, in the dark and with the knowledge that there were several hundred tonnes of rock above his head, the room was not as roomy as he thought it was. Parmak seemed to understand, and patted his hand. But before they could speak again, there was a sudden scuffle of shifting stone from above, indicating the arrival of someone or something climbing up what Garak imagined to be piles of building rubble. Garak and Parmak approached the chimney once more, and looked up the shaft. There was another few seconds of scuffling, a muffled swear, and then Audnes peered over the lip of the shaft.

“I’ve got good news and bad news.” they said, without preamble. “Which would you like first?”

“Does it matter?” Parmak replied. “Pick your favourite and tell us that one.”

“Well, the good news is we found the cause of the quake we felt.”

“Oh yes? What was it?”

“It was the mine nearby - completely just collapsed in on itself. The reverberations must have triggered some of the houses here to fall in. No-one’s known to be inside, thank the stars, but they’re still shifting rubble to make sure no kids snuck in there.”

Parmak frowned. “That’s not very good news.”

“Well, the bad news is worse I’m afraid. The rubble removal services are all at the mine, and can’t come and get you out until tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?!” Garak nearly squawked. “Are you saying we have to spend the night here?”

“I’m afraid so.” Audnes looked over their shoulder quickly, before gazing back down into the pit with a commiserating expression. “I sent Toran to fetch you some takeout for dinner, and some water and other things to make you feel comfortable, but you’ll have to stay put for tonight.”

Garak sighed hard, feeling irritation and frustration bubble up his chest. He turned and ducked out of the narrow chimney opening, leaving Parmak to speak to Audnes before he said something he regretted. He took a few deep breaths, but the frustration did not abate much - it only sank to the bottom of his stomach like a lead balloon of anxiety. There was a slight touch on his elbow, and he jumped - Parmak had moved across the room without him noticing, and was gazing at him with their trademark affability.

“Are you alright? You look a little stressed.”

“Is it that obvious?” Garak quipped. “I must be losing my touch.”

“Like humans say - I could practically see the steam coming out of your ears.” Parmak smiled, but not mockingly - Parmak could never be cruel even if necessary. “Is there anything I can do?”

“I…” Garak rubbed at his _chufa_ , and tried to calm down. “It’s just the space - it’s getting to me. I’ll be alright.”

“I have some general anti-anxiety madication here, if you think that would help?”

Garak shook his head. “I’d rather be… present, for the time being.”

“Alright.”

There was some more scuffling from up above, more shifting of stone as someone climbed over to their hideaway. They headed towards the fireplace once more - but there really wasn’t any need - Audnes’ next sentence made it clear who it was.

“Toran. What is _that_.”

“It’s an emergency kit.” Toran’s voice was faint, but clearly recogniseable. “And food. And some water.”

“ _Stars_ , Toran - they’re only down there for a night! They’re not going on a three-month hiking excursion.”

“Well, you never know what they might need down there. And since they can’t contact anyone if they do need something, it’s better to have everything on hand.”

“...It’s not going to fit.”

“It will fit - I measured it.”

“With what - your hands? Give it here, and let me jig a few things around…”

It took Audnes a few minutes to reorganize the items Toran had brought into a form that could drop into the hole. The bulky bag briefly eclipsed the light from the shaft, which did nothing for Garak’s claustrophobia, but soon the glow returned as it was lowered on a cable down into Parmak’s waiting hands. And once it was safely enconsed within Parmak’s hands, the two above promised to come back in the morning, and left, the echo of their feet on rubble reverberating in the room.

“Well,” Parmak said, bringing the bag over to the table in the corner to unpack it. “Lets see what Toran has brought us…”

What Toran had brought them turned out to be everything they needed, and more. Emergency lights and air recyclers came out first, and were duly distributed around the rooom, lighting up the room and drastically helping the anxiety that was a thrumming background thought in Garak’s mind. Then there were shock blankets, which were tossed onto the bed, a recycler toilet, placed in the surviving closet, a set of PADDs suitable for reading, a fully kitted out hygiene bag and other sundries that would be useful in case they had to stay more than one night.

At the base of the pack there was a box of food for tonight, framed either side by big bottles of clean water, suitable for both bathing and drinking. Inside the box was takeout, from one of the few eateries that were able to function without additional funds, with a scent that was almost a homecoming. There were servings of thick _matkott_ noodles and soup, round battered _kogeta_ balls, bitter hot _gelat,_ crumbly spice biscuits and sweet _jem’Uv_ fruit slices.

“Should we save some?” Parmak asked, as Garak divvied up the food into the complimentary eating bowls. “Just in case the chimney should collapse inwards.”

“If the chimney collapses inward, Kelas,” Garak replied, stabbing a _kogeta_ ball with some force. “You can rest assured that I will be digging us both out.”

Conversation over dinner was stilted, and often lapsed into companionable silence. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, Garak could feel the clawing of anxiety creeping up his back, and found it difficult to keep his mind on the conversation. Parmak wasn’t faring much better - Garak could see they were starting to lag, and when they did speak, Parmak was struggling to get the right words out. The length of the day was seeping into their joints, and after dinner Garak opted to take Parmak up on the medication option, to stave off a panic attack in his exhaustion.

Parmak seemed to have found a good compromise with their drugs this time - whereas the first time he’d taken anti anxiety medication he’d gotten hallucinations and night terrors, this one seemed to just smooth out the edges of his anxiety, albeit whilst making him sleepy. He settled down on the bed with an emergency blanket, and used the PADDs from Toran to read from the selection of books that were in the bookshelf, intermittently reading and sleeping as the medication dictated. Parmak pottered around the place, sometimes reading, sometimes just sitting, and occasionally recounting what they had. Garak left them be - he knew that organizing and reorganizing things was Parmak’s way of calming down.

The evening rolled on, and the light from the chimney shaft gradually changed hue, from the bright whiteness of the cardassian day to the orange-pink of a Cardassian sunset. Parmak seemed to notice this too, and began their preparations for bed, hunting around in the hygiene kit for a toothbrush and a cloth. The sunset light seemed to cast Parmak aglow, and Garak could not help but admire the myriad colours that dappled across their scales. An unused bowl from lunch was requisitioned for use as a wash bowl, and Parmak carefully set it on the ground and filled it with clean water from one of the bottles.

He watched as the older Cardassian knelt in front of the wash bowl with a slight groan, their hands in their grey hair, tying it into an untidy knot and brushing the loose strands away from their face. Their overgrown toe claws clicked slightly against the floor as Parmak shifted around, performing basic hygiene ablutions before bed. Gone was their sand-coloured tunic - it had not survived its use as a blood stemmer for Garak’s arm, and instead Parmak was dressed in simple black leggings and an undervest. Parmak certainly hadn’t complained about losing the thing in the midday heat, but now evening was falling, Garak could see the slight tremor in Parmak’s figure from the cold. And yet, Parmak took their time with their face-washing, their mouth-washing, and the other small ablutions that they could complete whilst stuck in a collapsed house.

 _They look like a fawn_ , Garak thought to himself. He’s not certain why his subconscious had particularly picked that animal - Garak had only seen them in the flesh once, when Sisko took him to Earth once. But the resemblance held some weight - as graceful as Parmak was when washing his face, every few moments he would shake like a leaf from the cold, like a newborn deer trying to find it’s feet for the first time. Garak could feel the ebb of protectiveness at the back of his mind, wanting to scoop the other Cardassian up and keep them warm and safe, but he discarded the thought - Parmak was not weak, and could look after themself; it was unlikely that they would appreciate being coddled.

“Did you want to wash your face before bed, Elim?” Parmak asked, as they caught Garak watching them. “Or should I pack this away?”

Garak thought for a moment. “Pack it away.” he said, rubbing an eyeridge. “I’ll probably knock over the bowl in this state.”

“Is the medication still making you sleepy?”

“Yes.” Garak frowned at the book he was reading. “It’s making me lose my place n my book too - I can’t remember who’s guilty and who’s not in this.”

“Is it an enigma tale?” Parmak wandered into the closet with the bowl, and Garak heard the recycler kick into action as they disposed of the waste water. “They’re all guilty of something.”

“Hmm.” Garak put the book down, and suddenly shivered - the air seemed to be a lot cooler now than it had been when he was reading.

“Is there a way we can block the chimney?” he asked as Parmak returned. “It’s only going to get colder.”  

“I don’t think so.” Parmak exited the cupboard, and approached the hole. “It might get claustrophobic again if we do. Maybe if...”

Parmak took a spare white blanket, and tucked it into the crevices of the fallen stone, so it formed a kind of diaphragm over the small opening. It fluttered and cut off the draught, but the sunset light still shone through it, causing a kind of ethereal glow. Garak gave him a smile, and a pleased nod.

“That’s better - though it’s still a little cold.” Garak wrapped his own blanket around him tighter, rubbing a little at his arms. “What about a heat pack? Surely the pack Toran gave us has one or two?”

Tolan’s emergency bag was located nearer to Garak, just under the bed, so he rolled over onto his stomach and reached under the bed and tugged it out. Amongst the bric-a-brac of toothbrushes and washcloths, Garak found what he was looking for - a small, flexible box, wrapped in soft flannel. He brought it forth, and examined it.

“Is that the only one?” Parmak asked, coming over to examine it.

“I think so.” Garak bent it, and with a sharp _snap,_ it started to warm in his palms. “But it doesn’t matter - we can share. You’ll only be on the other side of the bed, after all.”

“What?” Parmak blinked, and looked rather startled. Garak gave him a funny look.

“We’ll have to share a bed. There’s nowhere else suitable - and I’d protest if you slept on the floor.”

“Oh, I would too.” Parmak seemed to shake off their startlement, and moved towards the bookcase. “I was going to take the chair.”

The chair was a _prixtik-_ eaten rocking chair, ashen grey and dusty from the cave in and sat forlornly at the end of the bed. Perhaps at some point it had been a fine perch for an _adik_ and their baby to nurse, but not even the poorest of _adik_ ’s wouldn’t have taken it in this condition. It was not suitable for them, and it was not suitable for old arthritic doctors with rather ridiculous ideas about sleeping arrangements.

“Kelas, my dear doctor,” Garak said, rather flatly. “That chair is no better than the floor.”

“It’ll do.” Pulling a seemingly random book from the shelf - _The Dah’eel Enigma Tales,_ Garak could’ve laughed - Parmak moved towards the chair, and began dusting it down. “And anyway, I might hit your bad arm if we share a bed.”

Garak snorted, a dull sound that displayed just how irritating Parmak was being right now. “Come on, doctor - don’t be ridiculous.” he groused. “That chair is only going to cause you grief in the morning. You’re cold, and you know how how your joints get-”

“I do.” Happy with how the chair looked after their dusting, Parmak sat down, and hooked their legs over the arm. “It’s my body, and I know what I can and can’t do.”

The chair creaked ominously as Parmak settled in, pulling their blanket from the end dresser and tucking it around themself like a fabric cocoon. Garak opened and closed his mouth, having many things to say and only a few of them not filled with expletives. Honestly, did they have to be so stubborn? Garak was not so badly injured that he could not be approached or touched. Parmak was stubborn and ridiculous, but even Garak knew a losing battle when he saw one, and it looked like Kelas Parmak sticking their nose in a book Garak knew they’d read before and didn’t like.

“Will you at least take the heat pack?” Garak finally grumbled. “You’re going to need it. And have a better book - I know you hate that one.”

Parmak looked like they were about to protest, but Garak tossed the pack and his own book over, ensuring that it landed right in Parmak’s lap. Ignoring Parmak and their irritating stubbornness, Garak turned over and pulled an emergency blanket over himself, and promptly tried to go to sleep.

* * *

Garak was not certain how long he had been asleep, but he soon became very aware of himself waking up again, drifting out of a dark foreboding dream about a cave with a slight start. He stared up at the nondescript ceiling, his eyes gritty with sleep dust and half-considering whether to let his heavy limbs and head slip back into sleep. But there was some itch at the back of his head, a niggle that was convincing him that there was something amiss, something to be investigated, something that had woken him up. He wiped his eyes with the bandage on his arm, and sighed heavily.

Hmm.

Garak propped himself up on his elbows and looked up and around, trying to figure out what had woken him this time. At first, the room was quiet - the air was filled with the breathy whirrs of half-formed snores and night-time birds, and the room had the scent-taste of Cardassians at rest. The moonlit glow of Cardassia’s three moons bathed the room in a dusky light, allowing Garak to see the vague outlines of the room - the shadowed Hebitian sculpture by the window, the remnants of dinner near the rubble pile, and Parmak in the chair at the foot of the bed, the pillows and blanket they’d requisitioned tossed on the floor. It was then Garak noted the noise - every once in awhile, Parmak’s sleeping form would give a big shudder from the cold, causing the old chair to creak in protest. Not loud enough to alert any ordinary Cardassian, but loud enough and close enough for Garak’s trained mind to wake him up.

They’d said they wouldn’t be cold. Garak shook his head. _Honestly…_

With barely a sound, Garak crept to the end of the bed nearest Parmak. It was a testament to how much energy the accident had taken out of them that they didn’t even stir as Garak hovered for a few moments, hand above the bare scale of Parmak’s neck ridge, before letting it drop softly onto the cold scale. Garak shook the doctor gently, murmuring their name, and despite the deep sleep they were in, Parmak blinked and opened their eyes. Flickers of several emotions flickered through their eyes - bleariness, fear, recognition, confusion - before they settled into Parmak’s most used expression; concern.

“Elim?” they asked, struggling to straighten up in their chair and grimacing in pain. “Is everything alright? Hass something happened?”

“Nothing’s happened.” Garak replied, keeping his hand resting softly on Parmak’s neck ridge. “You are freezing, though.”

“It’s not _that_ bad-”

“You were shivering, earlier. So bad you woke me up.”

Parmak blinked. “I’m sorry - the blanket must’ve fallen, I was fine before-”

“Kelas.” Elim’s soft use of their first name made Parmak hush almost immediately. “You were cold before - I could tell. Why didn’t you say?”

Parmak picked at a loose scale on their wrist. “I wasn’t so cold then. I was more concerned about you, and your arm, and this entire situation.”

Garak shook his head, and laid back down on the bed. “Kelas, lie here with me. I won’t have you cold because of your pride.”

“It’s not _pride-_ ” Garak could feel Parmak’s frown on his toe claws. “I’m happy here.”

“Are you?” Garak propped himself up on his elbow. “You’re shivering even now.”

Parmak raised a hand, and watched it tremble with an almost surprised look, as if they’d truly not realised the effect of the cold. They lowered their hand and folded it into their lap. There was a few moments of silence as Parmak seemed to struggle with themselves, wringing their hands and curling up into themself. Garak resisted the urge to get back up and comfort the other Cardassian - Parmak had to agree to this on their own. Instead, he watched as Parmak thought, and shivered, and chewed their lip until they sighed, and looked at Garak’s exposed toe-claws.

“It wouldn’t be proper.” Parmak finally muttered. Surprised by the admission, Garak could not stop himself from laughing.

“ _Proper_ .” he laughed. “Those courting etiquette lessons from private school never died, did they? And this was after you _stripped_ in front of me to tend to my injuries.”

“That was _different._ ” Parmak folded their arms and pointedly looked away. Garak’s grin softened into an affectionate smile.

“I promise your _nasemkec_ isn’t waiting in the cupboard to shame you for keeping warm.” he murmured. “The only thing waiting in there is the toilet, and that’s seen worse indecencies. I even promise not to tell it of your indiscretion.”

Parmak let out a startled laugh, before giving Garak an exasperated look. “You’re insufferable.” they replied, but there was an affectionate twist to their lips, and Garak knew he’d won. He patted the bed beside him.

“Come,” he said, “and lie down. We can turn the bathroom into a confessional in the morning.”

Parmak took a few moments to collect their abandoned blanket, the heat pack and a few pillows, before climbing onto the bed and nesting in their reclaimed bedding. Garak shuffled until they were pressed back to back - a perfectly proper way to sleep according to those old Cardassian etiquette statutes, thank _you_ \- and settled with a sigh, the heat pack nestled in the space under the curve of their backs. The extra warmth seeped into his old saurian bones like an old comforting blanket, and soon Garak found himself lulled back into deep sleep, charmed by the soft snores of the doctor beside him.

* * *

 

The dawn rose in shades of pink and blue, the light ghosting across the room, across the abandoned rocking chair, the dresser, the open emergence bag, a stray abandoned pillow. Its brightness did not reach most of the bed - only the far end, and the glimmering inky blackness of a Cardassian toe-claw that poked out from beneath the blanket. But the light was enough to illuminate the shadows of two large Cardassians curled up together, spooning, the smaller one on the outside and with arms wrapped tightly around the other’s middle. The quiet air was filled with breaths and half-snores, and the warm morning air seemed to coddle the occupants in a hazy glow.

Garak was the first to wake up. He blinked, the dimness of their corner of the room making him feel as if he could drop right back off to sleep at any moment. The first thing he noticed was that he felt… comfortable. Warm. For the first time in as long as he could remember, waking up was not an ache or something uncomfortable and awkward. He blinked again, and some memories came back - the cave in, having to remain trapped overnight, something about deer… He flicked his tongue, and taste-scented the air - there was dust, that was expected, but there was also something sweet, almost floral, like fresh-baked _povva_ bread or lavender, now _where_ was it coming from…

There was a shift in weight on the mattress, and Garak became very aware of somebody cuddling up to his back.

 _Oh._ He remembered now.

A little hesitantly, Garak reached down, and rested his hand on Parmak’s arms, which lay quite snugly around his belly. If he turned his head just so, and didn’t jostle around too much, he could just see Parmak’s face beneath their long curly hair - serene, soft, and happily buried into his shoulder. Garak could not help but smile softly, and he settled back into the pillows. The doctor must’ve been much colder than they let on, given how they’d arranged themself in sleep. It was sweet too, in a way - how Parmak felt comfortable enough in his presence to not only sleep, but sleep deeply enough that they lost that sense of inhibition they tended to carry around.

Garak felt a little guilty for enjoying the unintended embrace, but waking Parmak up seemed to present something of an ethical quandary. Should Garak wake him? He was certain Parmak would not move into the embrace if he were lucid, but waking them for the sole purpose of moving seemed to be a waste. And there were other complicated factors - the warm wetness of Parmak’s _prUt_ was pressed up against his thigh, separated only by their thin leggings, and waking them up would cause some awkwardness and possibly some panic. Not that Garak minded having them pressed up like this either - he found it somewhat _flattering,_ even though he was certain it was down to Parmak having a very pleasant dream with some attractive character.

As he was contemplating this moral dilemma, Parmak somehow made the decision for him, and began to stir. Quickly, Garak shut his eyes and pretended to be asleep, and waited as the other Cardassian stirred and began to greet the day.

Garak could tell the exact moment Parmak was awake enough to realise what was going on. As if struck by lightning, Parmak froze, the arm around Garak’s waist becoming stiff and uncomfortable, and the breath on the back of his neck, which had been slow and rhythmic, went into staccato, before stopping entirely. For about five seconds, neither of them moved, the air becoming paralytic in their lungs, feeling oppressive rather than cozy, before Parmak very suddenly rolled away, as if burnt. The pain and abandonment that Garak felt after that was extraordinary, and involuntarily he opened an eye and peered at Parmak, who through some minor miracle wasn’t looking at him. But it was not disgust on his face, as Garak had expected, but conflict, and some amount of _fear_.

Garak thought about waking up then, and confronting the doctor, but Parmak did not stay by the bed for long. With haste in their steps, they hurried into the closet. and did not emerge until Toran and Audnes arrived with breakfast. Garak opted not to push it, instead choosing to settle into companiable chatter as they ate.

“Did Audnes or Toran have anything interesting to report?” Parmak asked, as they nibbled on what seemed to be an energy bar. “Any news on when we can go home?”

“Some.” Garak answered, idly stirring some hot _rokassa_. “The collapsed mine is pretty much a vacuum for teams with lifting equipment.”

“That’s understandable.”

“Mmm. Anyway, they’ve promised to send a team to survey tonight, but they probably won’t be able to start moving anything until morning.”

“Another night here, then?”

“Unfortunately.”

“ _Stars_ , that’s irritating.”

“They did bring us some clean clothes, though. Audnes did find a cardigan of yours, and another tunic.” Garak leaned back and tugged the garments across to their table. “And Toran said they’d bring some lunch once they’re on break at work.”

“Ah! Those two never fail to be thoughtful.” Parmak abandoned their energy bar, and accepted their clothes with a nod. Garak watched as the old doctor struggled with the clasps of the tunic, their joins seemingly stiff and uncooperative this morning.

“Drat.” Parmak said crossly, as their claws got caught in the clasp for the third time. “My fingers must’ve seized up in the cold. Could you…?”

Garak leant over and carefully started putting the clasp in place. “Is there anything you have to loosen them up?” he asked, fussing with the fabric. “Medication, or something else?”

“No. I just have to stretch them out and warm them. Painkillers help sometimes, but I can’t take them until after I’ve eaten.” Parmak began pulling on their cardigan, and winced as their hand claws got caught in the loose weave. “And make sure I don’t catch my claws in things. Did Toran pack a whetstone in that hygiene kit of theirs? I might as well shorten them and tidy them up whilst I’m here…”

“There’s probably one in there.” Garak leaned forward and helped Parmak pick the knitwear off their claws. “Toran seems to have packed enough hygiene items to clean a small army.”

“He always does tend to overcompensate sometimes.” Parmak laughed fondly. “I’ll see if they packed one after I’ve eaten.”

Garak nodded. “Would you like a hand? I can’t imagine it’s going to be comfortable to tidy your claws if your joints are painful...”

There it was again - that look of conflict. It was only a flicker, but Garak noticed it almost immediately. Shortening someone else’s claws wasn’t a strange request - often it was something that was done between friends, families or lovers. And they were friends - at least Garak thought so. So why the conflict?

“I think I can do my hands.” Parmak said softly, busying themself with a cup of _rokassa_ juice. “But if you wouldn’t mind doing my feet…?”

“Of course, I can do that for you.” Garak gave him a reassuring smile. “Just let me know when you want them done.”

* * *

 

There was something rather relaxing about shortening and polishing someone’s toe claws. He had always been raised to believe it was something of a chore - Mila had certainly hated doing his, and Palandine had given him a very odd look the first (and only) time he did theirs. Even he disliked doing his own somedays. But doing Parmak’s, he’d found a strange sense of serenity in helping out one of his closest friends, in the rhythmic, soft _swish_ of the whetstone as he worked the black claw, in concentrating and making certain he did not accidentally cut a blunt edge. He sat on the floor at Parmak’s feet, the old rickety chair Parmak had tried to sleep on finding it’s one use as the perfect height for Parmak to sit comfortably and read, and Garak to work on their feet.

At some point during Garak’s ministrations, Parmak fell asleep again, head lulled against the back of the rocking chair and PADD nestled in the crook of their arm. They mentioned they might - apparently the pain medication they took made them somewhat drowy.  Garak did not try to wake them this time either, and instead let the other Cardassian doze on and off as Garak’s fingers worked magic on their tired soles. After tidying and shortening the claws, Garak opted to treat the rest of the foot too, using some floral-scented oil he’s found in the hygiene bag to loosen any old scale on the sole and top of the foot. The joints he skirted around, afraid to cause accidental pain, but on the meat of the foot he massaged somewhat firmly. He remembered once that Doctor Bashir had taught him how to massage his hands to avoid muscle strain when sewing, and it wasn’t too hard to replicate the same motions on the other end of the body. It wasn’t until Garak was nearly done that he looked up, and realised with a start that Parmak was watching him curiously.

“What are you doing?” they asked, voice a little thick from the impromptu nap. “It tickles.”

“It’s a massage Dr Bashir taught me.” Garak said, giving Parmak’s foot one last smooth over. “It helps with soreness - it might not get rid of it all, but maybe it’ll make things a bit better.”

Parmak rolled their toes, and tapped each one against Garak’s open palm. “They are moving somewhat better.” they smiled. “Better than they normally do after medication, anyway. Thank you.”

“It’s no worry.” Garak gave Parmak’s foot a gentle squeeze, before letting it go and passing the whetstone up to the older Cardassian. “I’ll get you clean water for your hands - let me just recycle this…”

The day went on in much the same vein as the last - with reading, sleeping and quiet chatter. At lunchtime, Audnes came alone with lunch, and a pack of cards they’d found in the office, which meant the afternoon was spent with Garak teaching Parmak several Federation-style card games, as well as the classics. Dinner heralded the arrival of a team of rubble removal specialists, who wandered and examined the area before promising to come back in the morning to extract both of them, which certainly lifted Parmak’s spirits.

“Imagine,” Parmak said in the evening, once the workmen had all left and they had settled down in the chair with a book. “I can return to my bookshelf, where none of the literature is terrible.”

“The literature here isn’t _that_ bad.” Garak replied, reclining on the bed with his own reading PADD. “You’re reading something right now that you’re enjoying.”

“I’m _tolerating_ it. Mainly because it’s the only thing that isn’t an enigma tale.” Parmak frowned at the book. “I’m still not certain how many arms the main character has.”

“Maybe they’re not Cardassian and have more arms than us?”

“Do you know of a Cardassian-like species that has more than two arms?”

“Not personally.” Garak thought for a moment. “I suppose Changelings could have an infinite number of arms, if they so desired.”

“They could _become_ arms if they wanted, but that still doesn’t make for good reading. Currently the main character has an arm on the wall, an arm on the doorframe, and an arm on the love interest who’s apparently at the other end of the garden.”

“Perhaps it’s a metaphor.”

“Perhaps it’s terrible writing.” Parmak looked over at Garak’s PADD. “What are you reading?”

“ _The Dah’eel Enigma Tales_.” Parmak drew a face, and Garak laughed.

“Stars, _why?_ That one’s worse than your usual potboilers.”

“It’s a guilty pleasure. You’ll be glad to know it won’t be poisoning my mind for much longer - I just finished.”

“Good. Was it as awful as the first three times you read it?”

“It was just as good.”

“Hmm.”

“Truly, it was.” Garak set the PADD aside, and stretched. “I shall be dreaming of it as I sleep. I’m turning in for tonight - I’ll leave space for you on the bed, feel free to lie down when you’re done with that book.”

“Oh, there’s no need.” Parmak very nonchalently curled further into the chair. “I was planning to sleep here.”

 _Of all the hills to die on_ … “Kelas, don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not. I’m comfortable here.”

“You won’t be comfortable when you get cold wake up to your arthritis playing up. Again.”

“It wasn’t that bad this morning-”

“It wasn’t that bad because you joined me halfway through the night.”

“Still, I’m comfortable _here._ ”

Garak could see Parmak had very deliberately turned themself away from him, and was not looking at him, but Garak did not have time for social niceties. Parmak was being ridiculous, and was going to end up hurt again. There was something more at play, and Garak was going to find out what it was.

“There’s something you’re not telling me.” Garak said slowly, watching the older doctor carefully. “Something’s bothering you, that you haven’t told me about. Are you hurt somehow?”

Kelas Parmak was one of those rare few people who could not lie convincingly, no matter what the occasion, and would try and avoid answering whenever possible. Garak had to watch as Parmak squirmed under his gaze and refused to meet his eyes. “It’s nothing!” Parmak said, their tone of voice sharpened by emotion. “It’s... nothing. I’d just be happier in the chair.”

“Kelas…” Garak leant forward, and braced himself on his knees. “Come on. There’s something more to it than that. You and I both know you wouldn’t risk worsening your arthritis unless you had a particularly good reason.”

Parmak turned away, and did not respond immediately. “It’s personal.” he replied, their voice only barely clinging to false calm. “Please, just leave it be.”

Garak sighed, and shook his head. “You know I wouldn’t force you to do anything you didn’t want to. But you’re _hurting_ yourself, and I don’t know _why_. Is there something I can do, something to make it more comfortable for you?”

“There’s nothing you can do. It’s… a personal folly. Forgive me.”

Perhaps Parmak considered this to be the end of the conversation, but Garak did not. A personal folly? There was a vague feeling under his scales that was telling him to press more deeply into this - it was more than simple etiquette, and in the warm evening air Garak could now appreciate the flimsy excuse that had been last night. Parmak had been cold and sore, and had overcome some of their reticience to share a bed with him, but something had altered, something had made them clam up…

_Ah._

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with… how your body reacted to me this morning?”

As soon as the words escaped his lips, Garak knew he had struck gold. Parmak jerked hard, and the PADD in their hands slipped and clattered onto the floor. But they made no attempt to retrieve it, and instead watched it bounce away with an almost fearful expression. Garak could see Parmak’s chest heave in panic, pushing out rapid, shallow breaths under his tunic, and if he pulled the air over his _s’oc_ he was certain he would’ve tasted a palpable fear.

“You were supposed to be _asleep_ .” they hissed, and the sharpness of their voice almost cowed Garak into regretting putting voice to thoughts. But no, he needed to understand, and _Parmak_ needed to process whatever was going on so that they didn’t insist on doing ridiculous things like sleep in cold, uncomfortable chairs.

“I was, until about five minutes before you woke up.” Garak replied softly. “I didn’t want to wake and frighten you.”

“ _Frighten_ me-” Parmak shook their head once, sharply. “I’m not frightened.”

 _You truly are an awful liar,_ Garak thought to himself, but did not put voice to thought this time, instead altering his voice so that when he next spoke, it was akin to a farmer trying to calm an anxious riding hound.

“There’s no shame, you know.” he said, gentle and soft. “These things happen - it’s how most bodies respond to other people in close vicinity.”

Parmak twitched, but did not turn around to face him. The space between them seemed vast now, and Garak yearned to reach across it and provide comfort to the frightened figure that stood before him. But all he could do was offer safety, a bridge across the chiasm, and hope Parmak would walk back across it.

“I won’t judge you for it, Kelas. I won’t. Far be it that I hold a pleasant dream against you in such a time as this.”

“I…” Parmak seemed to struggle with themself for a moment, and Garak finally saw a few cracks in that clammed-up shell of theirs. “It… wasn’t a dream. I… let me explain.”

Garak’s heart felt like it could beat right out of his chest at what Parmak seemed to be confessing, but it also ached with emotion and worry. “Explain to me, then.” he urged. “Please, tell me what is going on. You are my friend - I don’t want you to be afraid.”

Parmak did not reply immediately. Garak watched as Parmak seemed to uncurl from themself and turned towards him. With a few clicks of their toe-claws, they crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the bed beside Garak. The warmth of Parmak’s shoulder pressed into his own, but he did not say a word, even when Parmak very gently took one of his hands in their own. The soft, dry scale of Parmak’s palm was a comfort to them both, and Parmak thought for a moment, before he began to confess.

“It’s to do with our history, a little.” Parmak murmured, their thumb drawing anxious circles on the back of Garak’s hand. “What happened, the aftermath...”

“I suppose it always does go back to that.” Garak murmured in reply. Parmak’s lips twisted a little wryly.

“Hmm. But we must talk about it. You know that.”

“I do.” As much as Garak wished they could bury everything and not talk about it, he knew deep inside him they had to. They had discussed it somewhat previously, but Garak felt that this conversation would be far more hard-hitting.

“What you did…” Parmak began, refusing to meet his gaze. “When you interrogated me, that was bad. But it’s what came after that was worse. The labour camp was horrific - not only emotionally, but physically. It ruined my hands, and my joints - you can see the long term effects in my arthritis, but back then it meant I couldn’t go back into surgery. One of my life’s goals, and it was snatched away, and all I had left was chronic pain and nightmares.”

“And it wasn’t just that. My parents didn’t want anything to do with me either, nor my extended family. I had disgraced them - and my old friends turned their back. So many doors shut in my face… It was only through the network of protest groups that I knew that I was able to find any sort of work and retrain to practice obstetrics. But even then, they couldn’t help with the trauma.” Parmak heaved a deep sigh. “You didn’t just break me, Elim. You broke _everything_.”

And Garak knew that to be true. He had come to terms with the atrocities that had resulted from his actions, and had tried - _was trying_ \- to make amends. Part of him wanted to voice that aloud, but he knew that Parmak already knew he was trying. _This was not about me and my redemption,_ Garak thought to himself. _This is context._ Like the very best enigma tales, the context explained not only the who, but the why and the how. So he remained silent, and gave Parmak’s hand a reassuring squeeze as they gathered their words together.

“I didn’t forgive you for a long time,” they continued, after a pause. “Not until you came back. And then you were more than eyes; you had a face, a name, a history, and you’d sacrificed so much to help us break free from the Dominion.” They snorted. “You should’ve heard everyone talking - it was like you were a messiah.”

“I wasn’t, though.” Garak murmured. “I wasn’t on my own - and I’m no hero, Kelas. You know that more than anyone. I wasn’t even expecting you to forgive me when I apologized.”

“I know. I remember.” Parmak smiled a little. “But I did. And I don’t regret it. But it does make everything more complicated.”

The older Cardassian seemed to hesitate for a moment, before turning a little on the bed, so that theirs and Garak’s knees touched and their entwined hands sat in Parmak’s lap. For the first time in the conversation, Parmak met his eyes square on, and Garak’s heart fluttered as it usually did when he saw the penny brown rings of colour. Instinctively, he squeezed Parmak’s hand, feeling the fragility and vulnerability of the moment, afraid this was all a dream, and Parmak would be spirited away at any given opportunity.

“I care for you a great deal, Elim.” Parmak said, as soft as a breath of wind. “And that _terrifies_ me.”

“Because of what has happened?” Garak asked, his heartbeat louder than the words he breathed out.

“Yes. And no.” Parmak’s hands tightened briefly around Garak’s fingers. “I trust you, Elim, you must believe me. And I have forgiven you for what was done. But there is always a part of me that remembers what came after. The loss. The pain. Starting from scratch, with nothing to my name but ruined hands and a broken soul. It’s that I am afraid of.”

“Sometimes, I can pretend that I do not feel this way, that I don’t crave your intimacy. But then...” Their eyes flickered towards the bed. “But then I lie next to you, and I remember. I remember how much I want you, your intimacy, and how much I _care,_ and how right it feels but how wrong I should find it, and it all gets tangled in what has happened and what could happen with us and it _hurts_ … I don’t want to lose everything again, Elim.”

The words hung thick and heavy in the still, musty air. Garak felt like his heart was both going to beat right out of his chest and tear in two. Never had he felt the regret nor bitterness about his past decisions so keenly as he did now, but even so he couldn’t hide the respect and admiration and love for this beautiful, _beautiful_ old doctor in front of him. Parmak was shaking again, tears threatening to spill from his eyes, but it was not a fawn Garak thought of this time, but a magnificent stag - proud, brave and indecribably beautiful, and Garak almost felt he was not worthy to see the open, bleeding heart that Parmak had given him.

Gently, very gently, Garak brought their enjoined hands up to his lips, and pressed a soft, tender kiss on Parmak’s knuckles. Parmak’s breath stuttered, and when Garak looked back up at them, he noticed Parmak was crying.

“I won’t hurt you like that again.” he said, his own voice choked and thick with emotion. “Not again. Not ever. “I care for you too, Kelas, so much more than you know. I don’t want you to be afraid anymore.”

“I know.” Parmak’s voice was a broken whisper. “I just need to convince my heart of that.”

“It’ll take time. I know that. And we’ll take our time - we won’t do anything you’re not ready for yet.” Garak pressed another kiss to Parmak’s hands. “And if you can’t share the bed, that’s fine - I shouldn’t have pushed, I’ll take the chair tonight-”

“I- no.” Parmak sniffed, and freed one hand to wipe their wet face. “I- I _want_ to sleep next to you. I don’t want to be afraid either.”

Garak let go of Parmak’s hands, only to cup his face and chin, wiping away the tears with the pads of his thumbs. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Parmak’s watery smile was like a break of sunshine in torrential rain. “Stay with me, Elim. Stay with me tonight.”

* * *

 

The first time Garak woke up that morning, everything was calm and bright. The early morning light sifted through the blanket covering the fireplace entrance, and the emergency lights were but a dim, cozy glow. Parmak was in his arms, head neatly buried in Garak’s neck and _prUt_ warm and comfortable against his thigh again, the unique smell of warmth and floral comfort drifting across Garak’s _so’c._ Garak’s memory slowly filtered in from last night - the fight, the admission, crying, carthiasis, sleeping back to back, _they’re giving you a chance_ \- and he smiled, almost with sentiment. In the soft glow of the emergency lights, Parmak looked almost angelic, like the ethereal Hebitian beings he’d seen illustrated in old books. He pressed his nose into Parmak’s _chufa_ , inhaling the sweet remnants of _pact_ make-up, before promptly drifting off to sleep again.

The second time he awoke, it was to Parmak scrambling away from him in a panicked daze.

“Kelas?”

At the sound of their name, Parmak froze, perched on the side of the bed with shoulders as stiff as statues. Garak could hear their panicked breathing - short, sharp, stuttering - and felt his heart break just a little. If Parmak had been a stag before, this was the fawn again; the shaking, terrified, run at first sign of danger fawn, afraid of him and what he’d done.

“Kelas,” Garak propped himself up on his elbows, wiping the sleep from his eyes. “Kelas, it’s alright.”

“I-” Parmak shook their head, and took a number of deep breaths. Garak could almost see the memories from last night seep into the other man’s memory, as they struggled against their panic. Slowly, ever so slowly, Parmak’s shoulders sagged down, and they relaxed somewhat. “Sorry. I don’t think my subconscious is quite used to this yet.”

“It’s quite alright.” Garak sat up, and scooted so he sat a little closer to the older Cardassian. “What can I do to help?”

“Just… give me a few minutes? Let me calm down.”

Garak nodded, and settled back under the blankets with his back to Parmak. For several minutes he did not feel the weight of Parmak shift much, only listened to their deep, slightly shaky breaths as they tried to calm down. After around ten minutes, Parmak rose from the bed and vanished into the closet for a minute, but Garak later felt their comforting weight settle back into the bed. He had assumed Parmak would return to the back-to-back position they’d gone to sleep in, and was therefore surprised to feel their arms wrap firmly around his middle. Parmak laid a gentle kiss on the nape of Garak’s neck, before settling down with a sigh.

“Kelas?” Garak murmured, laying one hand on top of Parmak’s.

“I’m ok.” Parmak’s voice was muffled a little, but Garak could still hear them. “I suspect that might happen a few times in the early days.”

“It’s understandable. We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“I know, i know.” Parmak’s arms tightened a little. “I don’t want you to think I don’t want this - I do, I really do. I just… panic, occasionally.”

Garak turned over carefully, not to dislodge Parmak, but so that he could look at their face properly. Parmak’s expression was honest and open, and Garak could easily read the desire, the guilt and a little fear in the lines of their face.

“Kelas, you don’t need to apologise. I know what I did, and I know how it affected you. Whatever becomes of us, it’s your call. If you need me to stop, tell me and I will. We’re going at your pace, and we’ll move forward at your pace. I won’t hurt you like that again, I promise.”

Parmak only peered at him for a few moments, silent as a rock, before they very gently leaned forward and pressed a sweet kiss to Garak’s lips. Had the hole they were in contained a choir of angels, Garak was certain they would’ve been singing by now - his heart was flip-flopping in his chest, feeling fit to burst, and he could not help but smile against Parmak’s plush lips. The taste-scent of home, of fresh bread and floral _pact_ lingered  in Garak’s mouth long after Parmak pulled away.

“I’m going to try.” Parmak said softly, relaxing onto Garak’s chest. “I _want_ to try. I want to not be afraid, and I want to be with you.”

“That’s all I ask.” Garak murmured in response. Parmak gave him a soft, sweet smile, before closing their eyes, and settling back down to sleep. Garak curled his arm around Parmak’s back, pressed a kiss to their _chufa_ , and soon fell asleep too, lulled by the warm body and soft breathy whirrs of the doctor beside him.

* * *

 

“Nearly there! Try moving that slab - we can get them out then!”

The air was filled with the sound of groaning building material and straining cranes and trucks, each pulling hard at a stone slab, encircled with cables. The slab swayed and thrashed as it was lifted up, but soon it abandoned its fight with a rumbling crash, and flipped to lie flat on the ground, letting light and fresh air rush into the bedroom. Garak blinked against the light, and smiled, feeling only relief at seeing the bright blue Cardassian sky once more. Two of the relief team that had freed him offered their hands, and Garak was swiftly pulled out into a sea of rubble and sunlight. He took one deep breath, then another, reveling in the wide open space and clean air once more.

“Mr Garak! Mr Garak”

“Toran-!” Garak suddenly found his arms filled with Toran, who was, rather surprisingly, hugging him. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, yes- I’m just happy that you’re out!” Toran let him go, their face full of relief and a little bashfulness. “Every time I came back with food I was worried the whole thing would collapse! I’m glad it didn’t!”

“Likewise.” Garak turned to look behind him, and watched as the workers pulled Parmak from the rubble, who somehow look far more beautiful in the sunlight. Upon seeing him, Toran let out an exclamation of delight, and ran across the rubble with remarkable ease to hug them too. Garak chuckled, and went to join them.

“I’m glad to see you too, Toran.” Parmak was laughing, patting the young officer on the back. “At least, not seeing you through that damn chimney shaft.”

“Me too.” Toran grinned, and ran a hand through their long, windswept hair. “Audnes as well - they can’t be here because they’re with the children, but-”

“Children?” Parmak asked, tilting their head to one side. “Whose children?”

“Oh, the ones that were living here - we found them last night. They’d found somewhere else to sleep while you were there, and we found them when they came back for the youngest’s toy cars. They’re at the hospital now, getting checked over.”

“Well, I’m glad they’re alright. Though I don’t think the cars are recoverable.”

“I hear some of the force are getting them new ones.” Toran smiled. “Speaking of cars, though - did you want a lift home? I can take Mr Garak back to Paldar sector, and you to Torr in the skimmer.”

“There’s no need to take me back to Torr.” Parmak wound their arm around Garak’s. “Elim owes me dinner.”

Toran grinned. “Oh, of course - I’ll drop you buy the new eatery in Coranum too! It’s not yet dinner time, so you should get a table. I’ll go get the skimmer started, hold on-”

Toran literally bounced down the hill of rubble, and Garak suspected their relationship status was going to be the subject of gossip at the station for a good few weeks. “Going bold, are we Kelas?”

“As if you wouldn’t obfuscate the truth for me.” Parmak laughed. “Unless you’re having second thoughts?”

“Never. You?”

Parmak smiled, and with a quick look around, pressed a kiss to Garak’s cheek. “No. I’m happy.”

“Good.” Garak smiled fondly at his closest friend and now companion. “Come - lets go and let Toran drive us around in that skimmer of theirs…”

And, arm in arm, they walked out of the rubble into a new chapter of their lives.


End file.
